


ferrous liquid, ancient fire

by Naberriel (naberriel)



Category: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dark, Bottom Anakin Skywalker, Dimension Travel, Good Parent Jango Fett, Human Disaster Anakin Skywalker, Inspired by Millberry's Integration AU, M/M, Mand'alor Jango Fett, POV Jango Fett, Possessive Behavior
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-27
Updated: 2021-02-02
Packaged: 2021-03-13 09:34:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29026557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/naberriel/pseuds/Naberriel
Summary: 'It's not often a jetii appears from thin air to fall in his lap, but Jango supposes there's a first time for everything.'OR: Anakin finds himself in an universe where the Mandalorian Empire has never been defeated, the Jedi are fighting a whole other war, and Jango Fett looks at him with the heat of Tatooine's twin suns.
Relationships: Jango Fett/Anakin Skywalker
Comments: 18
Kudos: 158





	1. Jetii In Your Lap

**Author's Note:**

> I've fallen into rarepair hell so here's Integration AU Jangani for you. All thanks to the jangani server (18+).

It's not often a jetii appears from thin air to fall in his lap, but Jango supposes there's a first time for everything. 

It's not as romantic as it sounds (and historians will later—much later, in a time when jedi and mandalorian are naught but titles of the past —argue that it's as romantic as it could be). The jetii lands badly, driving a sharp elbow in Jango's stomach, knocking the breath out of him before he can even call for the guards. But Jango didn't survive his tenure as the Manda'lor by relying on others, talented as they may be, and doesn't wait to regain his bearings to pull a small blaster from under his pillows and point it at the jetii's throat.

The jetii is still disoriented, mumbling curses as he sits up, blinking at his surroundings. Jango is very glad he didn't go to sleep immediately, opting to read mission reports by the low light of his bedside lamp. Had he been woken up in the dark and not seen the confusion on the jetii's young face, he'd have shooted first, asked questions later.

As it is, he opts to drive the cold muzzle of the blaster into the soft skin of the boy's throat, freezing him into place. To his credit, the jetii doesn't reach for his lightsaber, strapped to his hip, but Jango feels his hands, one metallic and the other warm flesh, squeeze his waist where they'd settled to keep his balance. 

"How did you get in here, jetii?" Jango demands, as soon as he's sure he's got enough air back in his lungs to not cough out the words.

"I-I don't know," the jetii says, in the most confounding mando'a he's ever heard. "I was in my fighter, there was a battle… I was surrounded, I panicked, and then-" He shrugs, giving away his youthfulness, briefly bringing Jango's attention to his peculiar armor. "Here."

"I didn't know jetii could do that," Jango muses.

The jetii huffs. "Me neither. And why do you speak so _weird_?"

"Me?" Jango's torn between being amused and incredulity. "It's you who's using Old Mando'a, and _butchering_ it."

The jetii shifts and Jango pushes the blaster harder, drawing a sound very near to a whine from him, quickly cut off by a sharp intake of breath.

"Ow, what the kriff, Commander? Put that thing away. I'm a jedi, I don't hurt clones." The jetii slips into Basic more and more. _Kriff, jedi,_ he's from the Republic, alright. But it's _commander_ and _clones_ that grab his attention.

Jango doesn't turn to Basic, but he slows down and enunciates his words more. "Commander? That's a first."

The jetii looks painfully earnest. "I don't hurt _vod_."

Something in his chest loosens. Being called vod by a _jetii,_ of all things… Now, that's definitely a first.

"Then you won't need this anymore." Jango pulls the lightsaber out and, without breaking gaze, flings it away. The sharp clatter makes the jetii wince but he doesn't react otherwise.

The jetii doesn't look like an assassin, doesn't act like one either. The armor, light as it is, makes sound with every breath he takes and Jango knows from experience that force-users out to draw blood wouldn't have hesitated to use their magic to pin him down, or choke him.

"Alpha?" Blue eyes shine out from under thick, long lashes and stray curls. 

Jango lowers the blaster, shakes his head.

"Do you know who I am?" He asks, a smidge softer than usual.

The jetii frowns in concentration. "I- I thought you were Commander Cody, but you don't have his scar and he would've put away the blaster by now. Then- Alpha. I mean, you certainly act like him but you don't _feel_ like him." He says the names with a hushed sort of reverence, eyes flicking away and back, biting his lip, cheeks flushing ever so slightly.

Jango has never seen this sort of vulnerability on a jetii before, not this close. It does something to Jango. The realization that this jetii apparently covets men who look like him.

"I'm not them."

The jetii rolls his eyes. Jango is unreasonably pleased at the hint of fire in the youth."Thanks, I gathered. You're one of those clones."

The more the jetii talks, the less he makes sense. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"You're a deserter," he says, matter-of-fact. 

Jango tenses, every cell in his body rebelling at the very suggestion he might abandon his duty. Jango is Manda'lor, he who lives and dies for his people, the head and heart and soul of Mandalore. The notion of leaving the people who crowned him, who put their faith in him and expect him to lead them to glory and welfare, nothing has ever repulsed him more.

Had he been any less in control of himself, had he been any less sure that this jetii is not the enemy, Jango would have blown his brains out, information be damned.

But he's Jango Fett, Jaster's son and heir, and he stays his hand.

His indignation and anger must be strong and vicious enough to leak through his shields and into the Force, because the jetii hastens to reassure him.

"Not that it's a _bad_ thing! You didn't even have a choice to fight in the war. It's the Republic's war against the Separatists. I won't try to bring you back and I won't reveal your secret to the GAR higher-ups. I'm-I'm happy you've made a life for yourself here. Wherever here is. I actually met a couple of guys like you. Well, just two but-" He leans back, brushing his mech hand through burnished hair, and he looks young and flustered in the low light.

All bronze curls and blue eyes and pink lips, and gorgeous features.

The move spreads him even more on Jango's lap, strong muscled thighs pressing down on him. He wonders if the jetii even realizes what precarious position he's in, how very, _very_ close to danger he is. He resolves to not be the one to tell him.

"Aaand I'm not explaining this well, am I?" The jetii… pouts. _Fierfek_.

Jango blinks slowly.

"Not at all," he answers drily, eyes flashing in amusement and something darker, "But I'm willing to give you a second chance. If you introduce yourself first."

The jetii squints for a bit, before lighting up with understanding, something he does when making sense of Jango's mando'a. 

He straightens, this time with an air of authority and pride. Confidence won from experience rather than rank or title. "I'm Jedi Knight Anakin Skywalker, General of the 501st legion."

A lot clicks together. The trust, the recognition, the word he used, _clones_. Tales about mysteries of the Force, accounts of ship malfunctions in space, hyperdrives that shift in focus, causing space-time dilation and reduction that defies normalcy. The armor that's very much not part of the Jetii Order.

And the fact that he'd just wiped out the 501st legion and its jedi last month.

After that, it's easy to put two and two together.

"Su cuy'gar, Anakin Skywalker." Jango smiles. It's not a nice smile. More the glint of a dagger and less the offer of friendship it's meant to be. Beautiful but no less deadly. "You're very far from home."

  
  
  



	2. Jetii in Da House

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Did I write Jango Kriffing Fett falling in love at first sight? Yes. Yes, I did. Well, love... More like, falling into obsession ;] This *is* a dark universe, after all.
> 
> ....I need ocs. For later chapters.

The jetii—Skywalker,  _ Anakin _ —has yet to vacate from his lap, not that Jango's complaining.

Skywalker starts returning the greeting before he frowns. "Su cuy'gar… err, don't think I got your name."

"Jango Fett."

Jango isn't sure what he expected but Anakin throwing his head back and laughing is close to it. He does use the opportunity to shove the blaster back under the pillows at his back. He also observes that while Skywalker's armor only covers half of his upper chest, at least it protected his throat. Something that can't be said for the rest of him. How much more impractical can you get?

"As if I haven't heard that joke already. C'mon, tell me your name." He winks, sending heat speeding through Jango's bloodstream. "It'll be our secret."

Jango surges forwards until their noses nearly brush, hands settling on the narrow waist. "My name," he says when their breaths mingle, "is Jango Fett."

Skywalker tenses but doesn't withdraw. Jango supposes he has to thank the… clones— _ his _ clones—for that. And the jetii too. He's vaguely heard of their rule on attachments.

"I-I-" Skywalker stutters before drawing a deep breath and closing his eyes. Jango knows he's relying on the Force, has seen enough jetii trust it more than any sentient's truth. Jango doesn't know how this Force  _ osik _ works but he knows it  _ does _ , and it's the best lie detector in the Galaxy. 

Skywalker's eyes, when he opens them, are wide and very blue. "You're alive."

"I never died. Not in my world." It probably shouldn't be a point of pride but Jango doubts his double will be in any place to protest.

"Your-" Skywalker blinks rapidly. "Okay.  _ Okay _ . What is going on? Where am I? Who are you, really?" He crosses his arms over his chest.

"I am Jango, of clan Mereel, and I am Manda'lor. We're in my personal quarters in Keldabe." He repeats it again in Basic. He tells him the bare bones. Something something  _ alternate universe _ something something  _ you don't have to believe me, trust in the Force.  _ He's careful not to divulge much, just enough to pass as sufficiently informed in a normal conversation, if a little too  _ mis _ informed.

It's easy to fool jetii. So used to putting all of their trust in the Force they forget it can be used against them.

"That's why the Force feels different," Skywalker mutters absent-mindedly, "I'm in a different universe." He pauses, as if waiting for confirmation and nods before Jango can open his mouth, looking a mix of resigned and caught off guard. Jango has the weird feeling he hadn't waited for  _ him _ to confirm. "And there's a whole Mandalorian Empire, and you're the jedi's main enemy."

"The enemy is anyone who stands in our way," Jango corrects, "The Republic has always opposed us. The jetii are their knights and generals. They lead the armies but have little in the way of decision making. They are… formidable adversaries." 

"Pretty words for a Mandalorian."

He raises an eyebrow. "Pretty enough to have you where you are?"

Skywalker looks confused. "What do you me-"

Jango can pinpoint the exact moment the jetii realizes where exactly he is, who exactly he's sitting on.

"Oh, by the Force!" He yelps and practically launches himself off of Jango. It would have been a successful escape, had his boots not caught on Jango's sheets. The young man falls over the edge of the bed, spewing colorful Huttese.

Jango has been careful to school his face into a neutral expression up until now, but the sight of a jetii General wrestling himself out of his sheets is enough to make him bark a laugh. He stands up, enjoying the coolness of the floor underneath his feet. Things had been getting a little too heated.

"Why didn't you say something?" He whispers furiously, cheeks a deep red.

Jango crosses his arms over his bare chest. "You looked very comfortable."

The flush deepens.

Someone knocks on the door, drawing Skywalker's attention. Jango's eyes don't leave him, studying features and expressions like he would a wall of text. "Manda'lor? Is everything alright?" The commotion must have alerted them.

Jango raises his voice to be heard through the metal door. "Yes, leave us, Vintys." 

"As you wish, 'Alor,'' acquises Vintys, the vice-captain of his guardsmen, before retreating. Jango trusts he's noticed the use of 'us' and will report it to Myles.

Skywalker looks a bit dazed. "Force… it's real." Jango can't blame him for still having his reservations about the whole thing. He probably won't believe it until he's seen this world with his own eyes. Jango himself is still trying to wrap his head around the very possibility that a dimensional jetii traveler fell into his lap.

"So," Skywalker says, looking uncomfortable. Slightly anxious, too. "What happens now?"  _ With me _ , goes unsaid. 

Jango's lips quirk up. He brushes past Anakin, enjoying the way the jetii tenses at the proximity, painfully aware of it now where he hadn't given it any thought before. He heads for his dresser, pulls out a fresh tunic and pulls it on.

"Now, we find you a bed."

.

Finding a sleeping place for the jetii is the easy part. It's what comes after that spells an oncoming headache for Jango.

All it takes is a comm call to Secretary Cho while he puts on his beskar'gam. He can feel Skywalker's eyes watching him with rapt attention, so he decides to make a show of it, slowly sliding on his boots and vambraces, fingers lingering longer than necessary when he fastens the plates over his thighs, a hand absent-mindedly trailing down the side of his chestplate.

"I barely understood any of that," the younger man tells him when he closes the call. He's bright red, probably congratulating himself that his voice didn't crack.

Jango snorts, "You'll learn soon enough."

Skywalker frowns. "I don't think I'll stay here long enough to do so."

Jango wisely says nothing, and tightens the shields of his mind.

He persuades the jetii to leave his lightsaber with him, on grounds that jetii aren't allowed to carry weapons in the city. And while the youth doesn't look happy to part with his weapon he seemed to believe it'll best be taken care of by Jango.

He promises him he'll look after it, but still Skywalker looks conflicted.

"A jedi's lightsaber is his life," he argues, "It's not a bauble to be kept in your desk drawer."

"You want me to bend the rules for you," Jango counters, "That is not very jetii of you."

Skywalker's lips purse into a thin line. "Well, I've never been a very good jedi."

Seems like he's hit on a sore point. Jango fills the observation away for later use, and holds out his hand. "I am Mandalorian, Anakin Skywalker. Weapons are my religion. I will keep it safe, you have my word."

Jango deliberately clips the metal cylinder at the loop at the small of his back and wonders if the jetii knows the significance of what he's just done. He doesn't think he does, doesn't think the jetii knows much of Mandalorian culture.

The room that's being arranged is close to the barracks but placed as far from any entrances. The jetii, should he decide to stage and escape, will lose his way in the numerous halls of the castle before finding an exit. More than ample time for them to find him.

Jango makes sure to warn him first. "Don't use Basic beyond the door." 

Skywalker frowns but obediently slips into Old Mando'a. He still sounds ridiculous. "Why?"

"It's forbidden to speak it on Mandalore," Jango says simply, picking up his helmet and placing it between his arm and body.

He sighs. "You have so many rules…"

He is, of course, right. Mandalore has taken every precaution imaginable against their strongest opponents. (Except, it seems, jetii dropping out of the air, but that is something Jango is working out). 

_ And you will learn them all, _ he thinks privately. 

Jango doesn't need the Force to feel the incredulity practically radiate from his Guards when he comes out of his room, jetii in tow.

"'Alor," Vintys dips his helmet. Skywalker studies them curiously.

Jango waves his hand between the two men. "Anakin Skywalker, meet Vyntis Skirata, the vice-captain of my Guard."

Skywalker dips his head in a shallow bow, but doesn't say anything. Vyntis does the same, the picture of suspicion.

Introductions done, Jango tells him their destination and the four guards arrange themselves in a tight formation behind them, far enough to give them privacy but close enough they could jump in at any moment to protect their leader.

"Come," Jango beckons Skywalker with his head. He turns to go down the hall, putting his hand on the small of his back to lightly— _ gently _ —push the taller man in the right direction. 

The gesture is deliberate, to draw attention to their backs. He knows, more than his words, it's the sight of the lightsaber secure to his back that calms his guard enough into not blasting Skywalker in the back.

…He can feel the jetii's warmth through his clothes.


End file.
